


A Happy Traitor

by carpfish



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: A3! 69 Minute Challenge, Act 8 Spoilers, Character Study, Gen, Introspection, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24946426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpfish/pseuds/carpfish
Summary: Citron thinks of homes that could have been, or still may be.Written for A3! 69 mins challenge, theme being "a home you can go back to".
Comments: 13
Kudos: 50





	A Happy Traitor

**Author's Note:**

> I went into this without really having a plan in mind, but I said I wanted to write more Citron fic and here is me making good on that promise!

The hallways of the palace in Zahra are beautiful, with rows of columns lining the garden-side corridor and elaborate patterns of light and shadow cast upon the ground through latticed windows. Citron remembers the fractal patterns of colored tile that kaleidoscope angled ceilings in triangular ridges that Misumi would surely love. Citron thinks of days spent surveying the jasmine fields on horseback, waving to the workers harvesting the blossoms and bringing them iced tea under the beating sun. Evenings spent admiring the view of the city from the balconies, so many twinkling distant lights like a blanket of stars laid out in the darkness, and the smell of spices and jasmine from so many distant kitchens carried to him on the wind. 

Zahra is Citron's homeland and his home, a small patch of land bounded by water on all sides that means more to him than can ever be explained. It's a kingdom that he has a duty to, and a place that he misses so much it hurts every time he walks by the food vendors in Veludo Way and can only reminisce on the taste of kofta and kebab, satisfactory examples of which can't be found anywhere in the country.

Zahra is also the place where he and his brothers were pit against one another in a stupid game with stupid prizes, for the seat of power in an outdated system that Citron doesn't truly believe in but owes his entire existence to. Zahra is the nation that stripped a vulnerable boy of all emotion and humanity until he believed himself nothing more than a tool to be used by its crown prince. Zahra is the cage that made Citron into a fugitive just for wishing to travel the world, and for all the beauty of its palace and people, Citron had spent so much of his youth thinking of it as little but a prison. 

It's hard to consolidate an idea of home, when there's so much good and bad wrapped up in it. Citron's realized that since leaving, then returning, then leaving again. There's so much that he misses when he's gone, and so much that he sees and wishes he could have had back home. Acting's helped him understand this, in some regards: there's always a hidden side to a character, one that may never see the light of stage. People, and their nations are like this too, Citron thinks, though one of these is capable of causing such longer-lasting pain. 

Citron used to think of grand sweeping changes to the system, of tearing down the monarchy and casting light on the tangled shadows of court and bureaucracy. He still thinks of that sometimes, when he thinks that there is so much to be done, and then he remembers that he's lost his right to be the agent of that change. Tangerine will do fine, and is much more determined and fit for the role of king than Citron ever would be, or so Citron tells himself so he doesn't end up as sleepless as Chikage. 

Citron would have been a good king as well, all the facts point to it: he'd excelled in his studies, been beloved by the people, and performed all his princely duties without a fault, up until his disappearance. He also would have been miserable the rest of his life, choking under a yoke that made him hate himself with every breath. But maybe the misery of kinghood is the penance he needs to pay for the privilege and comfort that he grew up in. Citron doesn't think that it's unreasonably selfish for him to choose a life that makes him happy. It doesn't change the fact that he thinks of himself as a traitor for it. A happy traitor, at least.

Maybe in another life, another timeline, Citron could have found happiness as a king as well. Perhaps the self-loathing would have faded, and the joy of bettering the lives of his people would have been enough. Maybe he would have gotten along with the royal wife he'd be forced to have, and they would love their children together even if he could never love her. It's a futile dream, and a vain one, when that path has been closed off by decisions of his own making. 

But sometimes, Citron also dreams that the door hasn't closed completely. One day he'll go home, and he'll know better how to make things right then. It seems too selfish of a dream, that he could have both the happiness of Mankai and also the satisfaction of bring change to Zahra in one lifetime. But if he's already achieved one impossible dream, one that has yet to end while standing on stage with the people he loves by his side, then perhaps he can pray to achieve yet another. 

Until then, Citron sees the arches of Islamic architecture in Veludo shoutengais' covered ceilings, basks in the sounds of home while listening to Chikage's language practice, and tastes nostalgia on his tongue whenever he taste-tests Guy's cooking experiments, no matter how badly they turn out. It's one thing to miss home, and another to miss a home you've abandoned. But Mankai, just like Zahra, is right where Citron belongs. And at the very least, he can count himself lucky, to have two places to call home. 


End file.
